France, Magic France
by FrancesOsgood
Summary: Sarah is bummed about being tied to work while her friends jet off to Paris, and Jareth and the goblins try to lift her spirits by giving her a night she'll never forget. No matter how hard she tries.


**France, Magic France**

"Okay, guys. Seriously, just tell me what this is all about," grumbled the blindfolded brunette as she was led from her kitchen onto her tiny open patio.

"Can't spoil Kingy's surprise!" chirped Wicket. The little goblin had Sarah's hands clasped tightly in his little leathery ones and was trying to lead her outside without bumping her into walls or furniture.

"That's what worries me," Sarah muttered under her breath as the goblin pulled her out the kitchen door. He led her clumsily over to the little bistro table where she took her coffee on nice days and patted the seat for her to sit.

"You sits," he squeaked. "Kingy will be here soon."

"Can I at least take off the blindfold?" Sarah asked, reaching up to remove the dishrag that Wicket had tied over her eyes.

"NOoo!" cried Wicket. "You has to keep it on! Kingy said!"

"Fine," Sarah sighed, holding up her hands in surrender. "Just promise me there won't be any snakes."

Wicket giggled. "Lady-king is silly," he said.

Sarah noticed that he didn't promise there wouldn't be snakes. "Umm...Wicket?" she called. He didn't answer. "Wicket?" she tried again. "This had better not be like the time you guys locked me in the bathroom and ate all my Ben and Jerry's!"

"Shhh..." a voice breathed in her ear and she nearly shrieked. "Don't give them any ideas," the voice continued, as smooth and rich as dark chocolate.

"Jareth!" Sarah protested. "What the hell is going-" She snatched the blindfold away from her face and looked around. She gasped at the sight that greeted her. The bistro table was covered in a fine white tablecloth and set with Sarah's best china, cat-patterned plates and saucers she had picked up on sale at Target. The patio was decked out in strings of lights that looked strangely as if they had come from her Christmas tree that was still up even though it was April. It wasn't really _up_; she had pushed it into a corner and didn't turn it on anymore. Sarah looked at up Jareth and frowned.

"Jareth, why are you dressed like a mime?"

He was wearing a black and white striped shirt, a red neckerchief tied in a knot at the base of his throat, and his standard criminally tight black pants. The ensemble was finished off with a black beret atop his wild mane of hair.

Jareth put his hands on his hips. "I am not dressed as mime, Sarah," he corrected. "I'm dressed as a Frenchman."

"Okaaaay... why?" Sarah asked, confused.

"You've been upset about having to remain here and work while your friends went to Paris, so I decided to bring Paris to _you_." Jareth replied sweetly.

"We helped!" Wicket called from somewhere in the kitchen.

"Quiet!" bellowed Jareth, turning toward the sound of chattering goblins. He turned back to Sarah and smiled apologetically. "The uh... goblins helped."

Sarah nodded her head slowly, her mouth agape. "Jareth... this is... I mean, I... it's um..."

At that moment, a goblin dressed in a tuxedo scurried out of the kitchen. The tails of his tux dragged the ground as he walked and he stumbled over them several times before reaching the spot where the Goblin King stood. He reached up a grimy hand and tugged on the king's breeches.

"What is it, Pym?" Jareth asked gruffly.

"Dinner time!" announced Pym.

"Excellent!" said Jareth, clapping his hands together. He took a seat opposite Sarah at the bistro table. "Bring out the appetizer."

The little goblin bowed and backed away, tripping over his tux tails and landing on his backside. He grinned sheepishly before scrambling up and into the kitchen.

"Bring out the appy-tazers!" they heard him yell. Sarah giggled as Jareth shook his head.

The kitchen door swung open and a chubby goblin in a huge chef's hat stepped out carrying a tray with a silver domed cover. He walked the tray, which was almost as big as he was, carefully over to the table and set it down between Jareth and Sarah.

"Ravioli!" he said, kissing the air.

Jareth groaned. "It's '_Voila'_, Plitz, not ravioli," he told the goblin. Plitz just shrugged and hurried off back to the kitchen.

"What is this?" Sarah asked, eyeing the domed tray warily.

Jareth smirked and began to lift the lid. "Just some exquisite little morsels I think you'll enjoy-"

"'Allo," called a little voice from the tray. Sarah looked down and shrieked. There, in a pool of garlic butter sauce, sat a thick blue worm with fuzzy hair and huge eyes.

"There's no need to scream, love," the worm said to Sarah. "Maybe a nice cuppa tea will settle your nerves."

Jareth slammed the cover down on the tray and jumped up from the table. "Plitz! Pym!" he called furiously.

The little goblins came tumbling out of the kitchen. "What's it? What's it? Kingy like the squirmies?" Pym asked.

"No, Kingy does not like the squirmies!" yelled Jareth. He rubbed his brow with his thumb and forefinger. "Did I not request escargot?" he asked.

The goblins nodded their heads vigorously.

"And you imbeciles know what escargot is?"

The goblins nodded again.

"Then why is there a worm on that plate?" He pointed to the tray on the table.

Plitz stepped forward. "Wicket said worms is snails without the shells. We think it make dinner more easier for Kingy and Lady-king to have snails already out the shells."

Pym nodded his agreement and Jareth sighed and laid his face in his gloved hand. "Just bring out the entree now, please," he groaned.

The goblins grabbed the silver tray and scampered off and Jareth returned to the table and plopped listlessly into his seat.

"Dare I ask what the entree is?" Sarah asked with a sly smile.

"Hopefully what I ordered," the king sighed. "Chicken Cordon Bleu."

Sarah looked up as Pym stepped out onto the patio dragging something behind him. He gave a tug and a scraggly black chicken on a blue leash stumbled out of the door. Pym led the chicken over to the table and puffed out his little chest and cried, "Ta-dah!"

Jareth threw his arms up in the air. "What the bloody hell is this?" he cried.

"This is Bernadette the chicken," answered Pym, gesturing toward the scrawny hen. "On a blue cord like Kingy said."

Sarah saw Jareth's face go from mildly annoyed to kick-bog-or-kill and she reached a hand across the table to calm him. "It's okay," she told him.

"No, it's not" he barked. "They're messing everything up, as usual."

"They're goblins," soothed Sarah. "What do you expect? Besides, it's really kind of funny. Chicken Cordon Bleu, Chicken on a blue cord." She looked at Jareth and smiled hopefully. She was relieved when his jaw unclenched and the kill-fire in his eyes died down to a smolder.

"I suppose you're right," he said at last. He got to his feet and pulled three crystals from the air. "I was going to make this bit the pre-dessert entertainment, but I suppose I can do dinner and entertainment at once."

He began juggling the crystals around in his palm, over his knuckles, up his arm, and then back down to his palm. He threw them one at a time into the air, and as they came down, they transformed. The first crystal became a long baguette, the second a hunk of soft, pungent cheese and the last turned into a bottle of champagne.

"Ravioli," Jareth said sarcastically as he handed Sarah the baguette and the cheese. He popped open the champagne and poured them each a glass.

Sarah sniffed and squeezed the fresh baguette. "Oh, it's still warm," she said. She looked at Jareth and raised a dark eyebrow. "You weren't keeping this in your pants, were you?" she teased.

Jareth winked suggestively and raised his glass of champagne. "My love, what I have in my pants is not bread, but it is for you and you are most welcome to put it in your lovely mouth."

"Jareth!" cried Sarah. "Not in front of the goblins!" She glanced down at Pym, who was still standing at the table with Bernadette in tow.

"Scram, Pym," hissed Jareth, swiping at the pair with his booted foot. Bernadette bolted, dragging the goblin along behind her as she flapped around the patio clucking like a chicken possessed.

Sarah couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into wild laughter. Jareth glared at her sulkily for a moment before cracking a grin, then chuckling and then laughing outright.

"Oh, Jareth," Sarah giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. "This is wonderful. Thank you."

Jareth shook his head and the little beret bounced on his golden mass of hair. "It isn't at all what I planned. I wanted it to be-"

Sarah reached out and touched a finger to his lips. "It's amazing," she told him. "_You're_ amazing."

Jareth was about to reply when Sarah's stomach rumbled loudly. With a smile, he ripped off a piece of the baguette, smeared it with cheese and held it to her lips. She opened her mouth and took a bite of the warm bread and decadent cheese.

"Mmmm..." she purred blissfully.

"I've heard that sound before," Jareth told her with a smirk.

Sarah batted at his arm and laughed. They ate the bread and cheese and drank their champagne under the stars, talking about this and that and falling into occasional contented silence. When the bread and cheese were gone, Jareth reached for Sarah's hand.

"Dance with me," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"We don't have any music," Sarah answered with a dubious expression.

"Tch," replied Jareth. He turned toward the kitchen. 'Music please!" he called. "Something French." He took Sarah by the hand and led her to a clear corner of the patio as the goblins began to sing.

"_Frère Jacques, frère Jacques,_  
_Dormez-vous ? Dormez-vous-"_

"Something we can dance to, you idiots!" yelled the king. Sarah broke into giggles and Jareth just looked up at the stars and sighed.

"Sorry!" called Wicket, before soft music began to play from the kitchen.

Jareth smiled in approval and wrapped his arm around Sarah's waist as Edith Piaf sang _La Vie en Rose._ They swayed slowly to the music, Sarah's head against Jareth's chest and his chin on the top of her head.

"I hope you feel a little better now, Precious," he whispered as they danced. "I know it isn't the same as a trip to Paris..."

"No, it isn't," Sarah answered. Jareth looked disappointed before she added, "It's better."

Jareth grinned happily and kissed her forehead and she smiled up at him.

"I have something French for you too," she told him saucily.

His grin widened. "Lingerie?" he asked, wiggling his arched eyebrows.

"No, you glittery goof," Sarah said, batting his shoulder. "This." She leaned into him and pressed her mouth against his. Jareth moaned when her tongue slipped past his lips.

"Ooh-la-la!" he purred happily.

The End

* * *

**A/N:**

**This came to me while I was trying to nap. Needless to say, nap-time became scribble time. I think it was worth it. Leave me a comment if you agree!**


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